The Boy With the Rings
by CrypticMoonFang
Summary: A small miscalculation was all it took to force Experiment 428's escape. Now facing a strange new world, he struggles to hide from those who would use him. But having been raised to follow instinct as well as their commands, making important decisions proves to be a fruitless effort...until he chances two unsuspecting strangers who can't even speak his language.
1. Chapter 1

The boy quietly sighed inside the cell and looked over the new rings. Both were silver and...honestly, foreign. They were thick. They were big. The weight was still noticeable but thankfully, the same as the old rings. That reddish crusty stuff had finally been cleaned out of his hands and feet, so that was good. What did those men call it again...? Gust? No... Uh, just? No, no. Oh! Rust! Yeah, the rust was off now.

He lifted one hand up just in time to have someone open the cell door.

On instinct, he scampered over to the far corner, running on the sides of his feet—the rings protruding from his feet made it impossible to walk like they could. But at least he could move around. At least he was able to get to the corner.

The man calmly walked to the center of the room. He held one arm behind him. He was dressed entirely in white and smelled of fabric softener.

The boy dropped to the floor and curled into a protective ball at the smell—the one he'd come to recognize as dangerous.

"Stariĝu. Nun," the man commanded.

The boy merely looked up at him, barely peeking through his elbow.

"Nun!" the man barked. "Mi diris staras nun!"

The boy hesitated.

"Estas tio!" the man shouted.

He brought from behind his back a small bronze bell and shook it. The ringing sound resounded in the boy's ears and his eyes grew wide. He'd come to expect what this particular sound brought—the all too familiar ringing of a bell only symbolized one thing.

From a hook just outside the cage on the concrete wall, the man grabbed a black whip. From a hook right beside it, he grabbed two white ropes—most things in this facility were white, the few colored things being a whip and the gray concrete that surrounded him.

"Mi tuj donos al vi iom da akvo kaj nutraĵo sed..." the man muttered under his breath.

The boy shook violently as his left hand was yanked forward. The rope was tied tightly around the ring. The process was repeated with his right hand. Finally the man tied the other ends of the two ropes around his wrist while the other hand raised the whip high into the air.

"Vi povas esti primitiva, vi povas funkcii en instinkto...sed via obeo trejnado ŝajnas esti slacking," the man mumbled, probably more to himself than anything. "Mi akuzas min por ĉi tiu, mi vere faros. Mi jam estis iom malfacila por vi. Ripozo certigis ĉi ne okazos denove, kaj estu certaj mi certiĝu pri tio."

The man brought the whip down with a resounding _CRACK_, made all the more stern when its slim end made contact with the boy. Not so much as a squeak was heard on the boy's end. Normally it would be extremely painful. Well it was extremely painful—agonizing, in fact. But he couldn't speak. The upside he always loved to look at, the one that gave him a thread to hang on to, was that nothing lasted forever. And at least they left him alone—it could be worse. They didn't leave him alone for long, but it was the fact that they did sometimes that gave him a sliver of comfort. Hope? No. He didn't even know what hope was. This was life he had since...well... This was the life he'd led since as long as—and probably before—he could remember. But at least there was a little comfort in there and that was all he needed.

He pulled back on the rope in futile attempts to run, but it was literally just no use whatsoever. The rings had been pierced straight through the centers of his palms and came around over his middle and index fingers. The ones on his feet were the same, except the rings were pierced a little further ways forward, more near his toes since they wouldn't fit properly if pierced straight through the middle.

The skin on his hands stretched when the man pulled back before striking another lash in. He felt strain on the bones and decided to go against all the instincts they said he was supposed to run on. They said he was primal, instinctive like an animal. Yet they taught him the logic to overcome that instinct—that one thing that he was supposed to follow; and they were teaching him to override it. At the same time, they baffled themselves as to why exactly he wouldn't always try to run when he felt threatened. They were tearing him two ways, and no matter what he did, it seemed like he just couldn't get it right. He tried to please them to avoid these things. But he was obedient as he could be—having been trained to both override what he was supposed to do, and to be punished for doing so. But that was what they _wanted_ him to do. They wanted him to overcome instinct, but then they backpedaled and frowned on it; which is where the punishment came in.

He felt the ropes go slack and dropped his hands. It could be worse... At least they didn't tie his feet. At least they only did this—more often than not it was worse.

The man returned the whip and ropes the their respective hooks and reached around him to grab a bowl of food and another bowl of water—the rings in his hands made it impossible to hold things using his palms, so he'd come to rely more on his face, eating like the animal they wanted...or didn't want, maybe?...him to be. Either way, his hands had just been stretched out and he didn't really feel like using them. That said, he merely waited in his safe little corner until the man left.

"Eksperimento 428? Pli kiel naŭza infanino..." The man scowled as he walked through the door at the end of the hallway.

**A/N**

**The language is Esperanto and for now you really don't need to know what it means. **

**Review if you like. :P Seriously, please PLEASE review. It adds wood to my fire!**


	2. Chapter 2

The next day had arrived, and so had another man.

"Leviĝu kaj sekvu min," he said as he opened the door.

In light of what happened last night, the boy didn't hesitate to stand and, just as the man had ordered him to, follow. As he rose he felt something wet spread across his back. He didn't need to turn around to know it was open wounds from the whip last night. It would seem weird to anyone who hadn't seen it that he had been forced to face toward the man rather than exposing his back to him. The whip was long. It lashed everywhere, including over his shoulders and around his sides to reach his back. Twice it had landed on his face, but thankfully it had only struck his forehead and cheek. It scared him the most when the whip hit his foot—if it wrapped around the ring there and got tangled in it, it would pull and pull and hurt as the bones, muscle, and skin strained to keep the ring in.

In fact, that was actually the point of these rings. The people who worked with him needed some way to hold him down, and had found that way by sticking four metal rings in him—one on each foot and one on each hand. This way if he tried to struggle or resist, the rings could simply be pulled and he would be pinned by them. They also served another purpose. While the rings' main function was to hold him down or force him to go somewhere or do certain things with his limbs, they were also used as a sort of cuff. Instead of having to constantly clasp a cuff on his ankle or wrist, they could use chains to connect an object to the rings. It was a very efficient way to strap him down or onto something. Needless to say, the rings had become their best idea yet to crush any thoughts of rebellion. Ever since they had been put on his obedience had been increasing.

Certain other functions, however, had been decreasing. Take his balance, for example. With the rings on his feet, he was forced to walk a different way. Everyone else walked on the flat of their feet. He had to walk on the side of his feet to avoid having the rings tear into his skin—he'd learned that one the hard way. The good news was, he had grown very accustomed to this new way of walking and it was no longer uncomfortable—it had even become second nature to him. Another example would be his complete inability to hold things normally. Everyone else could hold a handle or a cup, but thanks to the rings in his hands, he couldn't hold anything. The closest he could come to holding something was by using the sides of his hands and applying enough pressure to pick up whatever it was he was trying to hold. And even then, the object usually slipped out of his grasp. The good news to that was, he had become very good at using his teeth to pick things up. He had almost perfect accuracy with his mouth.

The only problem was, most of what he should be able to do was greatly restricted. Even crawling was difficult—he had to use his knees and the back of his wrists.

"Venu kun mi," the man said once the boy approached him.

Once more he obeyed and followed the man out of the cell and down the hallway. He hated being out of his cell. Everywhere else was full of horrible surprises, none of which he could predict. All he knew was that if he was lucky, it would be a physical exam and nothing more. Physical exams still hurt, but it was better than the deponejo de akvo, or the inferno kavo. Or worst of all...the ektoplasmo ujo. The holes they poked in him before he went in there were painful, but when the ectoplasm entered them it was worse than lava being shot through his veins. To say it burned was the understatement of the century. There were no words for it.

"Daŭrigu kun mi!" the man barked.

Just now realizing he was falling behind, the boy tried to speed up to keep pace. The hallway was long, torturous in the fact that it led to somewhere horrible, and nerve-wracking.

So many times he had wanted to get out of here and see what everyone was talking about when they said things like "suno" and "herbaro". But it was a lost cause and he'd given up on it a long time ago. It took him an insane amount of time to see it, but they were never letting him out of here. Their vision of "out of here" was in a different room, but not out of the building itself.

The door at the end of the hallway was opened and the boy took a breath, once again wishing he could go back to his cell.

"Vi devas resti tute senmove dum ĉi tiu testo," the man said, his voice stern and commanding...as if whatever was behind that door was too terrible for words.

Perfectly still... Whatever was behind that door, he had to remain "perfectly still". It only sent his mind into a state of pure panic—an instinct that he had been taught to override using the logic that they would hurt him if he started flailing. Seeing as how he only had a lashing last night, he didn't want to tick these people off. If he just stayed still, he would be okay. Hopefully. Depending on what they did, he would try to stay as absolutely motionless as possible. Aside from breathing and blinking, they were usually satisfied with his obedience. But they only gave praise and credit to his "trainers"—because obviously he had nothing to do with it.

Then again, they were thoroughly convinced that he ran solely on instinct. They thought of him as a feral animal, not a human with emotions. And the sense of _touch_, which made everything _painful_. They didn't think he understood anything though. The most he'd ever done in front of them was repeat a few words, but there was something about that that they didn't like and he was punished each time. He knew the entire language though. It wasn't hard to learn when they frequently talked among themselves in his presence. Besides, he'd been able to pick up on it since he was a baby.

Unfortunately, there were others who came in speaking foreign languages. The first few times he thought they were just making weird sounds, but then he realized that it was an entirely different form of communication. It was only on occasion though, and never happened very often. He never had a chance to pick up on any words from those different languages. Some of them spoke his language though, so he could make out what they were saying. It always seemed to be a few greetings first, then deep conversations about him. He never did understand the importance of anything they did here...

"Sidu en ĉi seĝo kaj ne ellitiĝi ĝis mi diros al vi," the man instructed.

The boy looked in front of him to find said chair and obediently sat down in it, hoping they wouldn't be using the rings today.

"Eksperimento 428 estas preta. Procedi kun Projekto Nivelo Up," the man said.

Wait, _what?!_ Nivelo Up?! They said it wasn't ready yet! They said his body was too unstable and couldn't handle it! Projekto Nivelo Up was a dangerous project meant to force new densities in his body. It would harden his bones and strengthen his immune system. It would make his body sturdier. But the huge drawback that made it so dangerous—easily to the point of fatal—was that it drained his energy. His heart could stop from that. His muscles could relax for too long a time—his lungs could go. Without muscle movement, many things would go, and his lymph system wouldn't flow, which meant it would back up in his body. The blood vessels wouldn't push blood through his body. Organs would fail. He would die.

And it only took the tiniest of mistakes—Projekto Nivelo Up was extremely delicate.

"And you're sure he's ready for this?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

The man who had led him to his chair replied, "Absolutely. His new diet has really helped his health. He's also accustomed to all four rings, learned to walk on the sides of his feet, and learned to pick things up without the use of his hands. He may be instinctual, but he's able to adapt. His body should, too.

The boy flicked a quick glance to the side. There was no doubt they were talking about him—it was always about him. He suspected they were talking about Projekto Nivelo Up. Hopefully they were reconsidering. For his mind's sake, he chose to believe that they would realize that he really wasn't ready for something like this.

"Does he know English?" the first man asked, casting a curious look at him.

The other man—one of his "trainers", shook his head and replied, "No. He only understands Esperanto."

"How do you know?"

"He follows orders given in Esperanto, but he doesn't know what he's supposed to do when given an order in English. You're welcome to try yourself if you have any doubts."

The first man walked closer to the boy, seeming to inspect him before kneeling to eye level and asking, "Can you understand what I'm saying?"

The boy looked back at him with a blank stare. To him the words were just a bunch of organized sounds and nothing more. They had no meaning, no significance...nothing.

"Stand up," the same man commanded.

The only response the boy could give was a slight tilt of his head paired with a confused expression.

His "trainer" came over and repeated the command in Esperanto. "Ekstari."

The boy immediately stood and the first man stood with him.

"Hm. I have to say, that's pretty interesting. Why haven't you taught him English?" the first man said—the one that hadn't hurt him for disobeying what might've been an order.

"Well, he runs on instinct, not logic. One language is enough. Two is definitely pushing it too far. He'll never get the hang of it. Besides, I don't even think knows the majority of Esperanto—we usually give him the same orders as one would give a dog. 'Sit, come, stay, lay down.' Just the very simple things like that. It works out for the best anyway, just in case—English is a foreign language to him, so to avoid any potential thoughts of escape or resistance, we can speak freely without him knowing anything we say."

The first man nodded in understanding. "And what about those rings, are they working well?"

The other man smiled and replied, "Better than anything else we've tried! He can't get them out and he rarely pulls back on them. They also do their job just right. In fact, he couldn't run away when he made me whip him last night."

"You whipped him?" The first man raised an eyebrow.

The second man cleared his throat and nodded. "Obedience issues."

The boy continued to stand but they seemed to be forgetting that it was incredibly hard to stand for an extended period of time without losing balance and falling over. Before the rings were put in, he could walk just like they could, but after they tested out the idea—which became very successful—he was forced to walk on the sides of his feet. So staying in one place wasn't easy and he knew that if he kept standing like this, he would fall down. And falling down had annoying consequences—it was barely possible to get back up. He used to be able to use his hands but now...

"It's surprising that you would have obedience issues with those rings on him," the first man mumbled.

The second one shrugged and said, "After today, we won't." Turning to the boy, he commanded, "Sidiĝu."

Finally! The boy sat down and sighed in relief as all that pressure was taken off his feet.

**A/N**

**For the record, an update the very next day is RARE for me, so all who like this story, you just witness the eighth wonder of the world. XD**

**PLEASE keep reviewing! Just the 7 reviews this story's gotten gave me enough fuel to plow through another chapter of over 2,000 words. :P That's double the first chapter, by the way.**

**Now to answer some questions:**

**1. The boy will get his name later. Until then he is Experiment 428.**

**2. If a story doesn't have "Complete" marked on it, it's not complete. This is the second time I've been asked that about a story and it makes no sense; the answer is RIGHT THERE. **


	3. Chapter 3

An hour of those same confusing sounds being exchanged between the two men passed, until the foreign man walked to the back of the room and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed expectantly. The boy's "trainer" was left alone with him. He pointed to a man standing by a large machine with at least a hundred switches and levers and said, "Turnu la deponejo de akvo sur kaj aldoni malgrandajn kvantojn de ektoplasmo."

The boy watched as a large, human-sized tank in front of him began to fill with water. It was basically a deponejo de akvo in a different room. It was just that when the man told them to add ectoplasm that he grew scared. Ectoplasm burned furiously in his system and it was enough to make him scream. Thankfully he was always submerged in it so no one could hear him. But he was chained to the bottom of the tank, which meant that his lungs lost a ton of oxygen. They had to keep raising and lowering the amount of ectoplasm in the tank so he could breathe. It didn't necessarily prove that he had been screaming, but it definitely suggested it.

"Leviĝu," the man said, grabbing they boy's arm and pulling him out of the chair. "Estas tempo por akiri en la deponejo de akvo."

No, no! He didn't want to go in the deponejo de akvo! Especially not with ectoplasm in it!

"Ne estos aero tiel vi devas spiri en la fluida. Ĝi estas plena de oksigeno do vi ne dronos," the man said as he dragged the boy into the deponejo de akvo.

Which fluid was he talking about? The ectoplasm? A special water? And they weren't going to let him breathe air, but the fluid? Then they say he wouldn't drown despite that?! Were they crazy?!

He was stopped in the middle of the deponejo de akvo, where four chains rested limply on the floor. The deponejo de akvo wasn't full enough to prevent the man from hooking him up to these chains.

Suddenly the boy was aware of machines with slender tubes sticking out of them. He knew in that same instant that the chains weren't the only things he would be hooked up to during Projekto Nivelo Up. That is, if he _survived_ Projekto Nivelo Up... He wondered how long it would take. Hopefully shorter than the other projects...

The man positioned him in a way that he was facing forward for all the other scientists and English-speaking observers to see him. The man bent down and clipped the chains tightly to the boy's rings—all four of them. The added weight on his hands was painful—those chains had to weigh a ton. He knew that when he was completely submerged in a water and ectoplasm mix that the chains would be nearly weightless and he could lift his arms without worrying about the rings tearing out. It would be a slight relief since he didn't have to stand on the sides of his feet.

He felt his heart pounding when the man left the deponejo de akvo. He didn't know when the ectoplasm was supposed to enter, but the fact that it would caused him to brace himself—an instinct that he had never been able to ignore or overcome. It was the one thing he always followed, even if he was told to relax. Thankfully they expected him to tense up and he was never punished for it. However, he had been forced into overriding the fight or flight instinct. He never actually fought back, but he did struggle and try to run. The fear had overwhelmed him numerous times, but at long last that instinct faded. It was a long time ago, though, and he rarely acted up. He obeyed to the best of his abilities and that was usually enough to satisfy these scientists.

He felt the water's current brush his legs as it rose. Backing up, he resisted the urge to curl into a ball—another instinct. He'd only half-overcome it though. Whenever he heard a bell, he couldn't resist that instinct and dropped down, curling into a defensive ball. He stayed that way until someone forced him out of it. The bell was bad. The bell was an auditory signal to him that caused him to expect pain when he heard it.

His back hit the corner of the deponejo de akvo and he spread his arms out to steady himself as the water continued to rise, throwing him off what little balance he had. Anyone else would be embarrassed...but he was not "anyone else". He was Eksperimento 428. And Eksperimento 428, right now, was too busy pressing himself up against the wall to be embarrassed—an emotion, by the way, that he'd never known.

He felt the chains for his feet start to lift up and took one foot out of the water; drawing in what could be his last moments in life. They said he wouldn't drown but he was told to inhale the water! How was that _not_ drowning?

He could do nothing but wait as he kept an eye out for any green clouds—ectoplasm in the "special water".

It only took minutes for the water to rise to his neck. It seemed like only a few seconds, and part of him hoped that something would clog the water so his head would stay free. He knew it wouldn't work that way though. These scientists and observers were very precise with _everything_. Nothing ever went wrong here. It never had and never would. Any chance of getting out of the deponejo de akvo was already dashed.

He drew in one last breath of air before the water came up above his head. By instinct—which would probably please them—he used his heels to jump off the floor. He pressed the backs of his wrists against the top of the deponejo de akvo, but the glass didn't budge. As expected, they planned it thoroughly. There was always a way in, but they were the only way out. And he could feel his lungs shriveling up and twisting, begging him for air. But instead he was told to breathe the water. Instinct—their lucky day—told him to hold his breath for as long as possible, but that time was being used up quickly. The chains prevented him from doing anything more than touching the glass. He was suddenly aware of an uncomfortable sensation around his legs and looked down. It was a green cloud—ectoplasm.

He immediately panicked and began pulling at the chains with his wrists. As if suddenly realizing this wouldn't work without the use of his hands, he began moving away from the ectoplasm and using his teeth to pull and bite on the chains of his hands. It hurt to so much as _tug_ on the rings, but ectoplasm hurt a thousand times worse than anything they'd ever done to him. It was an unbearable burning sensation throughout his entire body, like something even hotter than lava was entering him and burning holes everywhere in him. It hurt just that bad each and every time and the aftermath consisted of violent coughing, involuntary muscle clenching, sometimes spasms in his arms, and an insane amount of shakiness. And that wasn't even mentioning the sensation left behind after he was brought out of the ektoplasmo ujo—the feeling of fire licking at his nerves and searing every organ, muscle, and bone he had. It felt like fire but the truth was, his body temperature dropped harshly. He became cool—not icy, but cool. It was so strange that it burned so horribly, yet his core body temperature was much lower than it ever should be. Then, thankfully, it rose again in about an hour and the burning stopped completely.

He felt the ectoplasm enter the holes in his hands and feet, slipping right under the rings and straight into the wounds. So this was the reason for the new rings—it wasn't just the rust, they were preparing him for Projekto Nivelo Up. The new rings made the holes "renewed", so to speak. They were fresh wounds, vulnerable and painful. As if the wounds themselves weren't painful enough...

He felt the green torture move into his system. It burned. IT BURNED!

He opened his mouth and screamed out. He realized too late that the air had escaped his lungs and he was forced to take a breath. Had he not been in so much pain, he would've expected his lungs to plead with him for more air, more oxygen. But they didn't. The water really was special. It really was breathable. His lungs didn't complain until the ectoplasm invaded them, too. His eyes, his sweat glands, tear ducts, nose, and the holes from the rings... The ectoplasm was everywhere, filling his entire body. Even deluded it was extreme and indescribably agonizing.

His voice didn't travel through the water/ectoplasm. It was because of that that he could faintly hear someone give more orders. Despite those orders being given in Esperanto, he couldn't make out what they were saying—the water/ectoplasm wasn't carrying enough sound. Thankfully, he already knew, no more orders would be given to him. He couldn't do anything. He was chained up, underwater, and trapped inside a deponejo de akvo. And even if orders _were_ given to him, he wouldn't be paying much attention—if he actually heard them.

He frantically tried to swim away from the green, evil..._toxins_ that infected his body. Never once had they deluded the ectoplasm and even now it made no difference; it hurt worse than words could tell.

He felt another sensation, this time the feeling of sandpaper against his skin, float around him. As much as he didn't want to open his eyes with the ectoplasm—which burned even without the gritty stuff, let alone with it—he did. A navy blue color was now entering him. Blue and green polluted the deponejo de akvo and any clarity of pure water was gone. He felt the puffs of blue brush up against his eyes and shut them tightly. He already knew Projekto Nivelo Up was going to be painful but this was just... This was... This was torture! It was _torture!_ Sandpaper and ectoplasm combined, plus being forced to breathe that in only to get the burning sandpaper into his lungs so it, too, could spread to the rest of him, was nothing short of pure hatred for him.

He didn't even open his eyes for this one, but the newest liquid felt like pins and needles pricking him everywhere. Suddenly the ectoplasm on its own was a fluffy cloud. Each sensation was equally as painful as the next and with each breath it only got worse. It couldn't be called a deponejo de akvo anymore, nor could it be called an ektoplasmo ujo. He didn't even know what to call it!

He raised his arms in an attempt to save the rings in his hands from suffering the same fate as his feet. But writhing had only served to mix the concoction together and it had spread throughout the entire...um...deponejo? "De akvo" couldn't be added to the end of it since it wasn't even water anymore. Who knew what it actually was...

He didn't know exactly what happened, but he felt something inside him change. He was starting to hear better and his body felt lighter even though it was in...whatever this was. And other things inside him just... Something was wrong. This wasn't how he normally felt.

Suddenly he felt the needles, sandpaper, and fire being sucked away from him. The gravity was increasing on him, which meant the liquid was emptying. At first he thought Projekto Nivelo Up was complete and he was being let out, but then he heard people yelling in frenzy. He refused to open his eyes for fear of the feeling of sandpaper and needles.

Then he realized he didn't need to open his eyes to know what was wrong.

They had messed up. Something went wrong. Projekto Nivelo Up was incomplete and either he was going to die, or—

The thought couldn't even be finished. It was harder to feel because of the burning ectoplasm still rampant in his body, but an intense heat had already reached him. Almost immediately after he became aware of that heat, he was pushed back. He felt the rings being pulled on and before it had time to hurt too bad, the chains broke off completely and he felt himself being slammed through the glass walls of the deponejo, the shards tearing his skin on the way out. He felt himself crash through another hard object—the ceiling of the building... He had never once been outside this building before, so feeling fire underneath him and coolness on top of him was incredibly new.

He opened his eyes as the liquid flung off him. He had imagined himself to be in a much higher position in the sky than where he was. It would hurt when he came down though...

And it was only about a second before that happened. The ground hurt like crazy, but at least he was out of there. Although... He looked back to see a burning building. He wanted to stay there. Naturally, not while it was bursting into flames, but if they could just rebuild it... If they could just give him back his cage... That cage was his safe haven and now it was gone. The only thing he had ever known was gone. The only family he ever had was gone. Everything he knew was gone. It had literally turned to rubble, some of the pieces still raining down over what was left of the building.

Suddenly he was aware of his lungs screaming and screeching, wanting to be able to breathe again.

The liquid wasn't just liquid, as he discovered while slipping in his coat of slime. Projekto Nivelo Up had its dire side effects, as had been ensured by the scientists who studied him. His energy was low and he couldn't breathe—the slime was stuck in his lungs.

He used his wrists to pound on his chest, successfully expelling some of the slime. It still burned, pricked, and gritted, but at least his lungs were getting their well-deserved freedom. Without more of that slime to breathe in, this was it. He was positive that the scientists had a pump or something prepared for when the project was done, but whatever they had now was lost to the explosion.

He quickly noticed a slime trail left behind. His guess was that he had been thrown into the air from the force of the explosion. This slime was what saved his life. Had he not been covered in it, he would've burned to death. As for the fall, the slime spared him some major injuries by causing him to glide across the ground—

The ground... The outside... He was outside...

He looked down at the puddle of slime he had coughed up. Under it was what he assumed to be herbaro. He ran a forearm over it. It really didn't matter about the slime coating the ground now had—he was still a little slick himself.

He pounded his chest again when his lungs interrupted this amazing new experience. The slime was stuck in them. They were full of it and getting it out was like throwing up—you couldn't breathe until it stopped coming.

He opened his mouth all the way and hit his chest again, hanging his head and hoping for the best.

Hope... He finally had that...

**A/N**

**Well now. ;) Let us all see how Danny fares now that he has nothing to go back to.**

**Thank you so much for your reviews! This is a pretty quick update, by the way, and I've neglected one of my other stories for too long a time now. The next update won't come until two more updates are made: one for Flowers Will Grow and one for Whatshisface. After that, this story can take center stage. Luckily, though, I've been bombarded with new ideas for each of these three stories so updating them? Not a problem. :) You won't have to wait long.**

**I really hope you liked this chapter! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Guys, stop translating the Esperanto. I know you can't understand what they're saying, but most of it isn't very important. The parts that _are_ important will be revealed later on. Until then...quit ruining it for yourselves.**

He continued to cough with every other breath, but after a while of pounding on his own chest, at least half the slimy stuff was out. He could breathe again. And when he was first able to breathe again, he had time to take in the sights. Smelling and hearing were no-goes since the slime had invaded everywhere, inside and out. But his eyes were functional and the very first thing he wanted to do was watch the only place he had ever known continue to be destroyed, burning and melting into what they had always thrown him in—the inferno kava. He even saw the inferno kava crumble down and burn. All he machines sparked and whined and screeched—they burned. It all burned. It all went up with the smoke. For the first time a new feeling welled inside him. He had lost his cage and everything he knew to that explosion, but they couldn't do anything more to him. They hadn't been covered in the thick slime like he was—they had burned. And he watched it all, knowing that in their last moments of life, they were finally able to relate to part of what he had been put through all these years. Now it was their turn to be the scared little lab rats and now it was his turn to sit back and mock them for following the _instinct_ to flee in terror and pain as they burned to death. For the first time ever, he was the one on the outside. He wasn't trapped in that building, they were. Those who weren't had been shot into the air just like he had—they died. If they hadn't died then they would die from massive injuries.

He heard a sickening thud on the ground a little ways off and turned his head. It was the English-speaker. It was the one who had given him an order in a language he didn't know, and the one who would've punished him for it if not for the secondary Esperanto command to stand up.

Shockingly, the man wasn't dead. No, he was alive, but just barely. He was singed, seared, burnt..._hurt_. And now he lay on the ground moaning in the pain that the boy had been enduring every day of his life, as far back as he could remember. The man looked at him for what would surely be the last time and there was something new to his eyes, some kind emotion that was foreign to the boy—no, to the test subject. He wasn't a person to them, and he never had been.

_Nun __vi sentas __malgrandan porcion de __kion mi sentas __ĉiutage. __Nun vi __povas __rilati __al la eta __parto de mi __kiu __alkutimiĝis __al tio. __Ĉar vi __helpis al mia __suferado kaj __timo, __mi __esperas ke vi __mortos __mizera __morto..._

Every word, every feeling, every thought, was passed between them in their eyes. It only took one look into the boy's eyes to know that the boy was enjoying watching everyone he knew burn to ashes right in front of him.

_Mi malamas __vin. __Mi __ĉiam __malamas vin __kaj mi __malamas __cxiun el __via __afabla._

The boy watched calmly as the man closed his eyes and relaxed his body. His chest stopped moving—he knew it would never rise again. Despite having been in that torture chamber all these years, he knew very well what death was. He had always been so afraid of it, even in the midst of inner warfare between instinct and order. Do this, do that... If he was such a mistake then why bother with him? Why didn't they at least chain his rings to a stake _outside?_ They always talked about the outside, sometimes in front of him, other times not. But he could hear them and he always wondered what it was like and if he could ever understand it—if he would ever know it.

He heard the frantic screams of terrified scientists and observers. He wanted them to scream. They deserved it more than anything else. He knew they did. He never did have a dark nature and he never looked at the world ominously, but this time he was allowed to draw satisfaction from the scene before him. The irony of this all was that _they_ were the ones dying from Projekto Nivelo Up.

And now he was finally being able to see what they had been talking about. There was herbaro all around him, so many green blades reaching up to greet him. Something told him this stuff wasn't a threat. And the way everyone talked about it, it didn't seem like anything more than another sight.

Well to him it wasn't just a sight. This was an amazing new experience that couldn't even be _described._

He coughed a couple more times and observed the rest of his surroundings. Every single thing was new and foreign, which is when he realized that although there were so many things to see, so many places to go...he didn't know what to do. The whole ordeal itself was overwhelming yet at the same time pleasing. But now what? He had _nothing._ He was always told what to do and he obeyed instantaneously. He hadn't made any choices of his own. He didn't even know where to start...

He was halfway hoping one of them would survive and give him an order. He was completely lost without them and he knew it. He had been subconsciously waiting for something to happen that would tell him what he should do. But right now there was just... It was... There was nothing... The only choice he had ever made in life was made tonight—hitting his chest to get the slime out. And the funny part about that was, it was barely a choice anyway. His body acted on its own rather than listening to him.

Everything was too confusing right now. While he took satisfaction in hearing them all suffer miserable, agonizing deaths, he wanted that building back. Where else was he supposed to go? What else was he supposed to do? Who was he supposed to listen to now? How was he supposed to survive when he had absolutely no knowledge—aside from what herbaro looked like—of this outside place? He was taught instinct, logic to override some of those instincts, what ectoplasm felt like, and to follow orders. But what good was any of that if he couldn't use it anymore? Before the explosion that was common knowledge but now...

He drew a sharp breath when he felt someone near him—someone alive.

When he turned to look over his shoulder, he found another English-speaker. He was another one of them. He was living. He had found Eksperimento 428.

The man took a deep breath and said, "Is this the pain you feel every day?"

His voice was ragged and harsh, but...not threatening. The man was dying.

"Listen to me," he rasped, coughing once before continuing. "If you do understand English, you are _not_ just Experiment 428, you're a person. You deserve to live a life outside of a cage. I know-" He coughed again. "-that you feel comfortable in that cage, but it's not right. You were trained to follow orders. All of your orders were given in Esperanto-" Another cough. "-but now if you can understand me, I'm ordering you to get away from this place..." This time his cough was accompanied by a long, trembling breath. "...and hide. You were expensive. You were valuable. You've helped our research more than you'll ever know. But now, Project Level Up has failed. I know you're tired. I know you just want to lay here and get your strength back. But you don't have time for that. When the building exploded-" Loud cough. "-a signal was sent out. You'll have people looking for you. They'll want to complete Project Level Up and you'll have to go through all this again."

The man slowly dragged out a singed notebook and a half-melted stick and began scrubbing it all over the notebook. Observations. Even at a time like this he was taking observations.

When he was done, he ripped the piece of paper out and set it on the ground. He threw the stick away and pulled off what was left of his shirt.

The boy was expecting it to suddenly turn into a whip or anything that could inflict pain. But instead, he felt the shirt rubbing against him. He flinched from it and resisted the strong urge to curl up into a protective ball. It didn't hurt and that was what scared him most.

But it took seconds for him to realize that the pain was lessening. The slime was being wiped off. Why?

"What we did was wrong," the English-speaker said, going into a severe coughing fit immediately after. "This doesn't even begin to compensate, but it's all I can do." The man crumpled up the piece of paper into a tight ball and put it in the boy's hands, curling his fingers around it. "Take this with you."

Why did this man just give him a wad of paper? From the way he could only obey orders given in Esperanto, this man should know he couldn't understand English. The only words he found himself able to understand were "yes" and "no". "No" was the same for both languages, apparently—or at least, he assumed so—and "yes" sounded a lot like "jes". But everything else just... It was the way they spoke, their pronunciation, everything! They couldn't possibly expect him to follow or even know a command given in English. Right? He had never once been punished for being unable to follow orders spoken in English. At least they knew he couldn't comprehend it, and they probably took pride in not allowing him to learn a second language. He tried to pick up on it but the English-speakers didn't come over often enough and when they did, their conversations were fairly short.

The man coughed again as he threw aside his shirt, notebook, and half-melted stick. He bent down and helped the boy to his feet.

"Come with me," he wheezed.

The boy only lay back down and stared up at him. The boy's eyes were already sliding shut. Projekto Nivelo Up had drained him entirely and since he had no idea what the English-speaker was saying, he was overly ready to sleep—something he often missed out on. Besides, everyone had known the consequences of the project. They knew the effects it would have on him. The English-speaker would know all this. He would know what was happening to him. Maybe he could fix it...

"Please. I don't want to pull on your rings. You have to come with me."

Was he giving him an order? Where was the translator? Where was his trainer? He didn't know what he was supposed to do!

"You have to get out of here, Experiment 428! Do you really want to go through all this again?!" he yelled.

Normally he would've curled into a ball or at least tensed up, but he was just too tired to do anything right now. His body didn't want to move and he could feel his mind shutting down no matter how hard he tried to stay awake. Having the ectoplasm still in his body didn't help. It only exhausted him more to deal with the pain.

The English-speaker bent down and tapped on his cheek. "Can you hear me?"

The boy closed his eyes only to have them pried open by the man. "You have to stay with me; don't go to sleep yet!"

_Mi ne scias, __kion vi __diras... __Mi __elĉerpita... __Lasu__ min __ripozi..._

The man was loud, obnoxious, and he wouldn't let the boy sleep... All he wanted to do was close his eyes, just for a minute or two.

The man muttered something under his breath and grabbed one of the boy's wrists.

"Don't make me pull on your rings," he warned.

What was this man saying...? He didn't know English... He had to speak in Esperanto if he wanted him to obey anything... And why was he holding his wrist...? Why was the world going dark...? He felt so faint... It was horrible... The burning in his body was still there... It was hurting him... Shouldn't he have been caring about that right now...? He should... Why wasn't he...?

A sharp pain was felt in his hand but it was all too easy to ignore it. He couldn't physically do anything anymore. He was starting to feel himself drift off—even though he knew the English-speaker didn't want that.

He felt two arms slide underneath him and lift him up. It was the last thing he could remember before the world went black.

**A/N**

**Well, what did you think? Good? Piece of crap? In between? On a scale of 1-10, what would you rate this story so far?  
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**Well I'm stuck in a rut with Whatshisface but updated Flowers Will Grow, so this chapter came early! :)  
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**Thanks for reviewing everybody! It gave a LOT of drive to write this chapter so fast! :3 Review more? Pwease? *puppy dog eyes* You know you can't ignore the puppy dog eyes...**


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